


Alone

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sherlock can't cope without John.Set after The Six Thatchers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All the characters belong to their rightful owners, and not me.

"Anyone but you."  
The words are still resonating inside Sherlock's head when he's navigating home on autopilot. He's seen John angry before, after his return from the "dead", numerous times during the cases. But this time he thinks this may be it.  
The end of John in his life.  
Sherlock can't bear it, and what's the most devastating is his feeling of helplessness, not being able to do anything, even to see him. His best friend. He never hoped he'd ever have one.  
Being idle is what kills him. His mind provides a plan to bring John back, and that might require some assistance.  
"Cross the road and find me in the cafe in front of you. Urgent. SH." reads a message on Molly's phone as she is walking from John's after helping with Rosie. She sighs and turns to the direction indicated.  
As she enters the cafe, she's deafened by the noise of all the people talking simultaneously around her. It's about 7 p.m. and the place is crowded. Odd. Not a place Sherlock would willingly choose, she thinks. But where is he? She spins around, watching but not seeing, searching but not finding. Is he dressed like someone else again?  
"The first floor." Her phone vibrates.  
She climbs up the stairs and notices Sherlock sitting in an armchair in a reserved area. This floor is much calmer.  
She sits across him, plopping her bag down on her lap.  
"What happened?"  
"Short version - I need information. About John. How is he?"  
Molly reproaches herself mentally for falling for his "Urgent" again. Some day, Sherlock, you will be the Holmes who texted "Urgent", she thinks. But that day is yet to come.  
" He is... Devastated, angry, tired, anxious-" She sighs. Is she really answering that stupid question? All she wants is to come home and go to sleep.  
"How long do you estimate he is going to be, um, all of that?"  
"I don't know, Sherlock. How can I?"  
"I need him. Moriarty is back. I can't do this without John." Sherlock is growing impatient, his self-proclaimed emotionlessness disappearing.  
"You have to give him time," Molly looks at him with pity. She sees how he misses John, how he wants him back, and how he is desperate because of the guilt that's eating him from inside.  
"He'll come back," she adds, "I'm sure, but he needs time. He loves you, so he'll be there for you no matter what you do."  
"Will you, too?" Sherlock whispers to himself.  
"Excuse me?"  
"I don't have time." He says aloud, stressing every word.  
"You said that targets waited." She reminds him.  
He keeps silent, closes his eyes. It seems to Molly that he's trying to calm himself down.  
"You worked without John before, you'll manage it," Molly tries to reassure him.  
"It's not! The same!" He sounds angry.  
Molly stands up abruptly. "I'm sorry for you, but I didn't come here to be shouted at. Good bye." And she leaves him there, walking outside, back on her way home.  
Sherlock sits with his hands all over his head. It's no good to lose one friend in attempt to bring the other one back.  
His mind is racing as he steps into the chill of the evening street. Calculating her possible routes, her speed, taking traffic into account, weighing probabilities...  
His goal set, Sherlock runs after her.  
"Molly!" He cries as he spots her in the distance. "Molly, please." He breathes out when he's near.  
She turns to him, seemingly surprised.  
"Please," he repeats, short of breath, "I didn't mean to shout. I didn't want to hurt you."  
He steadies himself with one hand on the lamppost, breathing heavily from his sprint.  
They stand in a spotlight. He lifts his head, speaking again.  
"I need him. Please talk to him if you can, try to persuade him. I know it's my fault. I killed his wife. I-", he stumbles, " I don't know what I can do or say to get him back. But maybe you do?"  
She looks at him, trying to produce an answer. It's hard to concentrate, because she's aware of his other hand clutching hers around the elbow. It happened some time through his speech and since then she tries (and fails) to slow down her pulse. It is as if he's grasping (literally) at straws.  
"It's not as if I didn't try," she finally replies. "He won't listen, Sherlock, you know he's just as stubborn as you are," she adds lovingly. "And I don't think you killed Mary."  
Sherlock shakes his head.  
"I have to go, or I'll fall asleep right here," Molly says softly.  
And she gently removes his hand from her. It is cold against her skin, and she tucks it into the pocket of his coat. He waits quietly and doesn't move, his face frozen.  
It's when she accidentally finds the syringe in his pocket.  
She takes it out, and her fingers let it slip and fall to the ground.  
Sherlock stares at her blankly, his chest slightly heaving.  
"Don't follow me" is all she says before going away.  
He stands for a while, then picks up his syringe and vanishes into the streets of his favourite city.


End file.
